


Servants of the Hunt

by notyouranswer (gorgeouschaos)



Series: Servants of the Hunt [1]
Category: Supernatural, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, not entirely sure how this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeouschaos/pseuds/notyouranswer
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester dedicated themselves to the Hunt a long time ago. They are unaware of this fact.Jon doesn’t really care. He just wants them to stop pointing guns at him.(Julia and Trevor don’t find Jon in America; the Winchesters do.)
Series: Servants of the Hunt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678168
Comments: 30
Kudos: 219





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about an American TMA AU and, uh, somehow this happened? (This is all a contrived excuse to have a crossover. Please don’t question the setup or the timeline too hard.) Hope you like it, and I love hearing from y’all!
> 
> Events before the fic starts: John Winchester knew and worked with Gertrude Robinson, so when Jon Sims-- someone who has supernatural powers and little control over them-- started asking questions about her in America, a hunter contacted the Winchesters.

Jon blinked up at the two men holding him hostage. He’d been about to leave Lincoln, Nebraska when they’d kicked down his hotel door. When he asked them who they were, a hint of compulsion slipped into the question. The taller of the two had knocked him out in response. When Jon woke up, they’d splashed him with the contents of several flasks and cut him with several kinds of knives. He wasn’t sure what they’d been expecting, but at least they hadn’t killed him yet.

Jon had no idea who they were, where he was, or what they were going to do to him; he’d pulled against the ropes around his wrists until he’d felt blood trickling over his fingers and gotten nowhere; they had him at gunpoint; there was duct tape over his mouth. There wasn’t much Jon could do besides watch the two warily and hope that he’d get a chance to run. 

“I’m gonna take the tape off,” the shorter man said. (Well, he was shorter than the other man. He was still much taller than Jon.) “You do whatever that question thing was again, you lose a kneecap.” He lifted the shotgun in his hand for emphasis. Behind him, the taller man shifted on his feet and said nothing. 

With a surge of adrenaline, Jon suddenly Knew their names-- the shorter man was Dean, the other Sam.

Great. The Beholding couldn’t give him a way out of this shit, but it could give him the names of his future murderers. Fantastic.

Jon swallowed hard and nodded. He would have to be very careful not to ask questions. Sam’s face was shadowed, but Jon could see Dean’s clearly, and his expression left Jon with no doubts about the sincerity of his threat.

Dean ripped the tape off of Jon’s face and stepped back. “What are you?”

“Um… I’m an archivist?”

“Try again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“The truth,” Sam said. 

“I’m a fucking _archivist,_ ” Jon snarled. He was not a brave man. But he was an annoyed one. “I work for the Magnus Institute. I’m here investigating a case. I am telling the truth.” 

Dean hit Jon in the stomach. Jon doubled over, retching, unable to breathe. 

“Yeah, let’s talk about your case,” Sam said, stepping forward as Jon gasped for breath. Dean shifted back in response. The two of them moved around each other like Basira and Daisy did sometimes, with the unconscious ease of people who had spent a long time orbiting each other. “Why are you asking about Gertrude Robinson?”

“She--” Jon hesitated. Sam threw a pointed glance at his knees and Jon continued hurriedly. “She used to be the Archivist of the Magnus Institute, I’m trying to find something she left behind at some point, I swear I’m just looking for a book--”

“What book?” Dean demanded. 

“The Skin Book.” Jon saw surprise flicker over both men’s faces. They exchanged a glance and Dean pulled out his phone. Jon heard him say, “Cas?” before the cabin door closed behind him.

“Why?” Sam loomed over Jon. Jon was irritated by how well the obvious intimidation tactic worked. 

“Er. I don’t suppose you’d believe I’m, uh, trying to save the world?”

Sam snorted. Before he could ask another question, though, the cabin door opened. Dean and another… _thing_ walked in. 

Jon squinted against the light coming from the newcomer. It definitely wasn’t human, but he didn’t know what else it was. Perhaps an avatar of the Desolation?

His burned hand flared with remembered pain and he clenched his teeth. Jon didn’t know if he could stand another encounter like the one with Jude.

“Fear not, Jonathan Sims,” the thing told him. Jon could barely hear its words through the hissing static in his ears. “I am the angel Castiel, and we will not harm you.”

“Right,” Jon said faintly. The hissing faded as Castiel turned his attention to Dean.

“So… he’s human?” Dean tried. 

“Not… entirely,” the “angel” said. “He is an avatar of the Beholding. But for our purposes, yes.”

Jon gaped at it. _How..._

“What’s an, uh, avatar of the Beholding?” Sam asked. 

Castiel shook its head. “It matters not. Jonathan is pure of heart. You can give him the book.”

“Cas--” Dean began.

“ _Dean_.” 

Jon watched the “angel” and Dean conduct an argument entirely through eye contact. Sam sighed noisily. 

“Fine,” Dean snapped. “We’ll give this weird guy one of the most important books on the planet. If this goes wrong, it’s on you.”

“I’m rather accustomed to that feeling,” Castiel murmured. Both Dean and Sam winced.

A blade flashed in Castiel’s hand. Jon flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, but all the “angel” cut was the ropes around his hands.

“You, uh… You want a ride to the airport?” Sam asked Jon, offering him a hand. “The book’s in the car.”

“All right.” Jon got to his feet shakily. This was perhaps the most anticlimactic hostage situation he’d ever been in. 

“So what was his deal?” Dean asked Cas, pulling out of the airport drop-off lane. “What’s an avatar?”

“I assumed you knew about the fear entities…” Cas trailed off when both Winchesters shook their heads. “Well. There are fifteen of them. They both are and feed on fear. Jonathan serves the Beholding. You-- apparently unintentionally-- serve the Hunt.”

Dean slammed on the brakes. “ _Goddamn_ it, Cas.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lonely has the Lukases; the Hunt has the Campbells. The Winchesters never had the chance to choose their god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this was written in about twenty minutes, and I didn’t like it much, so I posted it anonymously. I got so many sweet comments, though, that I decided to post this second chapter!  
> I’m sure I’ll come back to this ‘verse at some point-- Sam working in the Archives could be interesting-- so stay tuned!

Mary Campbell left her family-- her pack-- and died for it.

Oh, it wasn’t her family, or even her god, that killed her. Not really. But she’d left behind whatever protection the Hunt might have given her the moment she tried to leave the life behind, so in truth, leaving was why she died.

John Winchester was not from one of the few families who worshipped the Hunt, but he married into one, and his wife’s death sealed his devotion. He was not aware of his god, but then, few who worship the Hunt are. It was enough that he lived for the thrill of the chase and the high of the kill; it was enough that he taught Mary Campbell’s sons to do the same. The Hunt may not have been in his blood, but he found it all the same.

Mary Winchester burned on the ceiling, her husband spent the rest of his life hunting her killer, and her sons never knew a life without the Hunt guiding them.

Although Sam and Dean did not know of their patron’s existence-- not for a very long time, anyway-- they knew the joy of the Hunt very well. 

Sam might have belonged to the Beholding, had he been born into a different family. He had the thirst for knowledge, certainly, but the Hunt, like all deities, was a jealous god. He left his family, just like his mother had, but in the end, loss drove him back to the predatory joy of the chase.

Dean was always meant for the Hunt. Full of loyalty and resentment, anger and duty, violence and emptiness-- he was born to serve his parents’ god. Still, he was always drawn to another god: if Sam could have been the Beholding’s, Dean could have been the Slaughter’s. 

Indeed, for forty years Dean paid homage to the god of violence while pure hatred, pain, and fear overwhelmed the thrill of the hunt. And, years later, the Mark of Cain-- the legacy of the Slaughter’s first acolyte-- drove Dean temporarily away from the Hunt.

(The Hunt and the Slaughter were similar enough for Dean to always be caught between them, though. 

Where does the hunt end and the kill begin?)

Dean did his best to leave the Slaughter behind. He succeeded, for the most part, just as his brother succeeded in leaving the Eye behind. The Winchester brothers were always drawn back to the Hunt.

John Winchester was not born to the Hunt, but he married a Campbell, and his children never had the chance to choose their god.

(Gertrude Robinson wondered if the Everchase would take place in America. She never realized it had started when the first Campbell first picked up a knife.)


	3. Chapter 3

To those who subscribed to this fic-- I started a full-on crossover! It's called Run with the Hunted and it's the second fic in this series. Hope you like it!


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